Jago gave his brother an exasperated look as we followed him down the staircase.
In the drawing room Cousin Mary was saying that it was time we left.
“I was showing Caroline the view from the tower,” said Jago.
Gwennie laughed significantly.
Cousin Mary said: “It’s been such a pleasant evening and so kind and neighbourly of you to ask us.”
Eventually we took our leave and were soon bowling along the short distance to Tressidor.
Cousin Mary came up to my room with me. There she sat down thoughtfully.
“What an atmosphere,” she said. “You could cut it with a knife.”
“They resent her,” I replied, “both of them.”
“Jago was interested in you. You’ll have to watch him, Caroline. You’ve already heard something of his reputation.”
“Yes, I know. They are not very admirable, are they? One the rake of the countryside and the other blatantly marrying for money.”
“Human frailties both, I suppose.”
“Perhaps. But having made the bargain it should not be resented.”
“Oh, you’re talking about the elder one. I know what you mean. Some men are like that … proud … holding firmly to the position into which they were born. One can understand it. They’ve been brought up to expectations and they’re about to be robbed of them. Opportunity presents itself and they fall into temptation.”
“That woman …”
“Gwennie. The name doesn’t suit her. She’s as hard as nails.”
“She needs to be with such a husband.”
“You despise him, don’t you? I had the impression that when you were in France you rather liked him.”
“I didn’t know then that he had sold himself.”
“What a melodramatic way of describing a marriage of convenience …”
“Well, that’s what it amounts to.”
“It’s hard for him. They are quite unsuited. I can see that her mannerisms, her blunt way of expressing her thoughts … the fact that she doesn’t fit in … irritates him. If she had been a simple little girl … an heiress with Pa’s money to buy her a mansion and a handsome husband it might have worked better. But there he is a proud scion of an old family married to a woman who has been brought up to an entirely different culture, you might say. Good manners, social subterfuge, an elegant and somewhat indolent way of living, against that of a girl brought up by a hard-working, shrewd father of not much education but possessed of great gifts … which to some extent she had inherited. It’s like trying to mix oil and water. They never do. One won’t absorb the other. And there you have it. Discord! I never noticed it so much until tonight.”
“Have you seen much of them together?”
“Occasionally. It was different tonight—more or less the family. You and I were the only outsiders. Generally when I have been entertained by them there have been a lot of people.”
“It was certainly an experience.”
Cousin Mary yawned.
“Well, you’re settling in. I liked to hear you talking to Paul Landower about the estate. You’re learning already.”
“I want to, Cousin Mary.”
“I knew it would absorb you, once you started. Goodnight, my dear. You look pensive. Still thinking of those people?” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” she went on, “if there were trouble there one day. I got the impression of rumbling thunder in the distance. You know what I mean? Of course you do. Two strong natures there. I wish Gwennie had been a dear simple soul. I wish Paul was ready to accept what is. Well, it’s their problem. Nothing to do with us, is it? Of course it’s not. But a lot of people depend on the prosperity of Landower. All the people on the estate. It’s the best way really. Keep the estate going … make up for the dissolute ways of those who have gone before and brought about the situation in the first place. I believe Gwennie will do her best. She’s got her father’s head for business. It’s just the domestic side she can’t manage. Well, as I said, no concern of ours. Goodnight again.”
I kissed her and she went out.
Then I sat down at my mirror and took off my emerald brooch. I studied my reflection. My eyes did look brilliant even without the brooch to call attention to them. Whatever I said, whatever I tried to think, I could not banish the memory of Paul from my mind. I could not stop myself being sorry for him.
“It’s his own fault,” I said aloud. “He made his bed. He must lie on it.”
How apt! I could sense his dislike of Gwennie. There were moments when he could not hide it. I now knew the reason for the melancholy, for those secrets in his eyes.
I wanted to hate him. I wanted to despise him. But I could not. I could only feel sorry for him and I had an overwhelming desire to comfort him.
“It’s no concern of ours.” Cousin Mary’s words were in my ears. Of course it is no concern of ours, I said to my reflection.
But I still went on thinking of him sadly, yet with a vague hope … I could not say of what.
The next morning Cousin Mary stayed late in bed. I went to see her in some alarm.
“Oh, I’m feeling my age,” she said. “I always lie in after a night out. I shall be up shortly.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“Completely sure. I don’t believe in driving myself. Particularly now that I have an assistant.”
“Not much use so far, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do this morning. Ride over to Brackett’s farm and tell them Jim Burrows is looking into the matter of three-acre-meadow, will you? There’s some question about the soil there. Jim won’t have time to go because he’s got to go into Plymouth today. I said I’d see to it.”
I was pleased to be able to do something useful and practical and after breakfast I set out.
I sat in the Bracketts’ kitchen and had a cup of tea and a hot scone which Mrs. Brackett had just brought out of the oven. I passed on the message and Mrs. Brackett said how pleased she was I had come to the Manor.
“I often thought it was lonely up there for Miss Tressidor, so it is nice for her to have you along with her like. And she thinks the world of you. I said to my Tom, ‘It’s nice for Miss Tressidor to have Miss Caroline with her.’ “
“Yes,” I said, “and nice for me.”
“We’re lucky to be on the Tressidor estate, I always say to Tom. Landowers now … well, there was a time not so long ago. I said to Tom, ‘It’s not the same … Landower’s changing hands … It makes you think.’ “
“But it is back to normal now.”
“Yes, but they say she keeps her hands on the purse strings …
Of course she’s not quite what you’d expect. There! I’m talking out of turn.”
I wanted her to go on. I was eager to learn all I could about what was happening at Landower. But naturally I must not gossip.
I came out of the farmhouse and turned my horse towards the moor. I wanted to gallop over the fresh turf. I wanted to feel the wind in my face. I wanted to think clearly about last night and what the future was going to be like. Cousin Mary was expecting me to stay and I wanted to, but having seen Paul last night and being aware of the strained relationship between him and his wife made me feel very uneasy.
It was no use saying it was no concern of mine. I was well aware of the feelings he aroused in me and I was not sure whether I was right in thinking I had a certain effect on him. If this was so, then it could easily become a concern of mine. Unless, of course, I went away.
I believed I had to think very seriously about my future.
It was a warm day with a fairly brisk breeze which came from the southwest—the prevailing wind in these parts, and which I always felt carried with it a breath of the spices of Morocco. I inhaled with pleasure as I galloped along. In the distance I could see the old scat ball which Jago had once pointed out to me.